'When you play the Game of Thrones,
You win.
Or you die.
There is no middle ground.'
In which the Princess of the Storm is spun into a whirlwind of chaotic events, all beginning with a single choice to choose Lord Eddard Stark as the new Hang to the...
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VALENCIA STOOD TALL AND PROUD ATOP HER WARHORSE. In front of her, through the thick trees along the Green Fork hid herself and her calvary from view of the Lannister army. They had rode well into the night to arrive in the early hours of morning the next day, wanting to catch the Lannister's by surprise. And they were to do just that.
Beside Valencia was Lord Umber, Lilith, Dacey and Alysane Mormont, the latter being the second daughter of Maege Mormont whom she had met just before riding out. Alysane didn't look much like her older sister, for she was short, chunky, and muscular. She had the same dark hair as Dacey, but her smile was crooked but remained flattering. She was a different kind of beauty, something that Valencia saw. She was covered in boiled leathers, furs, chainmail, and sheepskin, Valencia had learnt that Alysane was a mother to two children, both still on Bear Island.
She wanted to ask her questions of motherhood, considering her chat with Robb many nights ago where she told him she wanted a child. And it was the truth, lately Valencia had thought about having a child with Robb, not at this instant of course, but soon.
She had discovered, that Robb's gift for her was her own personal suit of armour. It was beautiful, that was not incredibly heavy, and manlier than she anticipated; Valencia loved it.
It was steel, shining brightly in the light of morning. Her chest was covered with a thick breast plate, it hovered over her breasts but didn't frame them. She wore lower vambraces, carved with the sigil of the Stark's and Baratheon's. Her pauldron had three layers and ended just below the beginning of her arm, she wore a small skirt of mail, shining with heavy steel. Her pants, and under top were a chestnut brown, a frill around her neck a royal blue. Her boots were the same brown as her shirt and breeches.
She had braided the sides of her hair back, before having it pulled high into a loose ponytail. She longed for her wolf cloak to shield her from the chilly morning air, but the cloak would only slow her down.
Lilith was beside her, steadying her white horse, the horse huffing through it's nostrils. Lilith's armour wasn't as expensive as her's, merely a polished bronze and red, her sword strapped to her side, her right hand holding it as well as the reigns. It was thin, but efficient, Lilith was much quicker than Valencia was.
Restless men stood behind her, 2,000 Northern strong aching to unleash their anger upon the Lannister army. Valencia felt as they did, wanting nothing more than to murder those who brought harm to her family.
"The winds are changing," announced Alysane Mormont, her grey eyes looking to the trees as they shook in the direction the Lannister camp.
"It seems so," responded Valencia, looking in the same direction. "They wind is with us, I'm guessing that's a good thing?"
Lord Umber spoke next, "it is, my Lady. These Southern fuckers have no idea what is to become of them." Valencia glanced to him, nodding approvingly as they waited.
